


Easter at Mount Street

by california_112



Category: Biggles Series - W. E. Johns
Genre: Easter, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-22
Updated: 2019-04-22
Packaged: 2020-01-24 02:16:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18561913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/california_112/pseuds/california_112
Summary: “Well, I must say, I wouldn’t mind being down at Chedcombe now, no by Jove.” Bertie said somewhat wistfully.“Why, what’s the old manor got to offer at this time of year?” Biggles asked, not without sarcasm.“Well as it’s Easter Sunday, there’s usually a jolly old Easter egg hunt in the gardens, if you see what I mean.”-or-The boredom of Easter Sunday at Mount Street is broken by an unexpected activity.ABSOLUTELY 0% SPOILERS FOR ANYTHING





	Easter at Mount Street

An uncharacteristically hot and sunny Easter Sunday found all four Special Air Police pilots in the living room of their Mount Street apartment, kicking their heels in boredom. The hot weather had made any flying in the small, enclosed cockpit of the police Auster unbearable, as Air-Constable Lissie had found out to his dismay when he had been asked to do a patrol of the English Channel earlier that day. Now, though, Bertie was in a much more comfortable situation, if a significantly more boring one: perched on a windowsill in the living room, looking down at the traffic, both automotive and pedestrian, which crawled by underneath the relentlessly early spring sun. As he polished his eyeglass, a habit which had been repeated to the point of appearing mechanical, a reflected slither of sunlight danced on the ceiling.

This was watched by the bored eyes of Air-Constable Hebblethwaite, who lay on the sofa making a hopeful list of things he would rather be doing than lying in the sultry atmosphere of the apartment.

          “I wouldn’t mind going swimming,” Ginger said to nobody in particular, “cool off a bit.”

          “Well, you’re welcome to spend your pocket money on it,” replied Air-Constable Lacey from the dining table, “I paid last time.”

So saying, Algy returned his thoughts to the chess game he was playing with his colleague and cousin Air-Inspector Bigglesworth. Biggles hadn’t made a move for the last ten minutes, staring intently at the pawn-knight-rook triangle which seemed to have his king surrounded. Algy was on the point of picking up a newspaper to pass the time, when Biggles suddenly reached out, grabbed his final standing bishop, and pushed it in a desperate last stand towards the face-off on the left of the board. With no remorse, Algy deftly eliminated it, and before Biggles could blink, he was in checkmate.

          “Again!” he said in a hurt tone, though a small smile betrayed him. “I’ve had enough of this.”

As the two of them packed away the chess board, Ginger turned to a new topic of conversation.

          “What do you guys usually do at Easter? Anything fun?”

Algy snorted. “I’m usually dragged down to see my mother- not that that’s fun in the slightest. Thankfully, not this year.”

          “How did you get out of that one?” Biggles asked. “Must have taken some skill.”

          “I told her I was on police business, and was unlikely to be able to make it. Then, when I was free, I just…didn’t go.” Algy said lightly. “I’m glad I did, I wouldn’t like to be sitting in those stuffy rooms on a boiling day like this.”

          “But you don’t mind sitting in these ones?” Ginger said, to a withering glare from Algy.

          “Well, I must say, I wouldn’t mind being down at Chedcombe now, no by Jove.” Bertie said somewhat wistfully.

          “Why, what’s the old manor got to offer at this time of year?” Biggles asked, not without sarcasm.

          “Well as it’s Easter Sunday, there’s usually a jolly old Easter egg hunt in the gardens, if you see what I mean.”

          “Aren’t you a bit old for that?” Biggles asked, lightly shoving Ginger along the sofa as he sat down.

          “Never too old for an Easter egg hunt, old top, never.” Bertie detached himself from the window and took to the armchair about a second before Algy.

          “That sounds fun.” Ginger said as he sat up, his interest piqued.

          “It is rather,” Bertie said, with a smile as he thought about last year’s hunt, “eggs hidden in all sorts of bally annoying places. I remember, one year-”

          “Wait a second Bertie,” Algy interrupted, “I don’t like that look in Ginger’s eye.”

Biggles looked at his young companion, and soon saw what Algy was talking about. Ginger smiled innocently.

          “It wouldn’t be too much hassle, would it?” he asked, looking at his three friends, “It might even be fun. Definitely break up the day…?”

          “Yes, well, anything’s better than listening to you two playing slow-motion chess.” Bertie agreed, with quick glances at Biggles and Algy. “Unless two you had any other plans?”

Biggles sighed. “I suppose not.” Ginger leapt from the sofa, a mischievous grin on his face, and disappeared into his room, saying something about money. Bertie was more relaxed about pulling a pair of shoes on, feeling it necessary to accompany Ginger to the shop to make sure he didn’t spend absolutely all his savings on chocolate. Within a couple of minutes, the pair descended onto the street and meandered off round the corner, Ginger barely able to conceal his excitement.

          “Was this a good idea, do you think?” Algy asked Biggles, sitting in Bertie’s recently vacated space on the windowsill.

          “Well there really wasn’t anything else to do.” Biggles replied with a shrug. “I don’t fancy being beaten at chess again, anyway.”

Algy grinned. “You should’ve let me teach you properly all those times we were waiting to scramble in the last show, instead of reading those magazines that Tug was passing around. Maybe you wouldn’t have lost so badly today.”

          “I still would have lost,” Biggles returned, “I’m much better at battleships, chequers…”

          “Anything but chess.” Algy laughed, and Biggles looked helpless.

After a few more minutes passed in pleasant banter, the door suddenly banged open, making Biggles jump and Algy almost fall out of the window. Regaining his balance, he saw that the door had been opened so wildly because Ginger had kicked it open, his arms occupied by a large bag. Bertie was hovering in the background, startled, and he hastily held the door as Ginger staggered through it, depositing his bag on the sofa.

          “Sorry guys,” he said, a trifle breathlessly, “I thought you’d’ve gone out by now.”

          “Gone out? Why?” Algy asked.

          “So we can hide the eggs, old sausage!” said Bertie brightly. “Haven’t you ever done an Easter egg hunt before?”

          “We’ll get going,” Biggles said with a laugh, pulling Algy to the door, “and pick up some lunch for later, as Mrs Symes is away.”

As soon as Biggles and Algy had closed the door behind them, Ginger turned to the bag, and emptied it onto the dining table. Easter eggs of small or medium size rolled everywhere, some escaping the table, their multi-coloured metal foils throwing pinpricks of rainbow light around the room from the late morning sun. One quite large one fell to the table with an audible bump, and Bertie quickly caught it before it too fell to the floor, placing it safely on the sideboard.

          “Well, let’s get started them.” Ginger said, scooping up a handful of shimmering sweets.

However, when he turned to face the room, there was suddenly a bewildering lack of hiding places. Bertie noticed his discomfort, and joined him with another handful.

          “I’m an old hand at this game, laddie,” he said, “let uncle Bertie show you all the really puzzling hiding places. We’ll need them, with Biggles on the case! Now, let’s start with…”

* * *

Slightly less than an hour after they had left, Biggles and Algy returned to Mount Street and made their way upstairs. Laden with lunch and tired from a time-filling walk, they didn’t rush, and Biggles made sure to knock before entering. Bertie’s voice greeted them cheerily as they entered- “Hello, chaps! Welcome back!”- but this was nothing to Ginger’s reaction. On the entrance of his two comrades, he leapt from the sofa and presented them with a bowl each. Algy barely had time to put the lunch down before his was thrown into his hands, and Ginger excitedly told them to “Get hunting!”.

After exchanging a knowing glance with Algy, Biggles swept an experienced eye over the room, looking for anything out of place. Three of the eggs were immediately obvious, the dark fireplace not being the best place to hide shiny chocolates, nor the sunny windowsill or otherwise-bare sideboard, but as he looked up, he saw that Algy somehow already had five eggs in his bowl. Suddenly, this egg hunting had become a competition sport.

A couple of minutes and several head scratches later, when Biggles and Algy had tied at seven each, Ginger decided to tell his companions that some of the eggs were actually behind things, as opposed to being in plain view. Immediately both hunters dived for the sofa, scrambling down the back of the cushions, and found not only a lost pencil, but two well-hidden eggs.

          “How many of these are there?” Algy asked, almost unnoticeably out of breath as he straightened his shirt.

          “Twenty each.” Ginger replied. “Forty overall.”

Algy heaved a deep sigh, and turned his eyes again to the room at large. His eyes rested on the bookcase, and it seemed from Bertie’s armchair position that both men had the same thought at once. The bookcase was then subject to a thorough search, yielding three eggs. As Biggles turned away, however, Algy grabbed one more that his cousin had not quite spotted, bringing the draw to ten each.

          “You’ve got half of them,” Ginger said, a broad smile on his face, “only twenty more to go!”

          “You’ve managed to hide _twenty_ more eggs in this room?” Algy asked, incredulous.

          “They’re all in here, old top,” Bertie put in, “the rest of the rooms are so bally messy you would never have found them again.”

          “The door is still open, though…” Ginger hinted meaningfully, and then jumped out of the way as Algy leapt for it, only just avoiding him.

Previously obscured by the door was something that both hunters had forgotten about; the glass cabinet. Moving slower to avoid breaking anything irreplaceable, Biggles found the three eggs hidden in a set of old water jugs, but Algy soon doubled him by finding one inside each of the six crystal tumblers on the top shelf.

As the time between each find lengthened, Ginger watched from the side lines like a sports fan, trying not to give away hiding places. More often than not he failed, either by drifting too close to a cabinet or staring too hotly at an ornament. Finally, after a further ten minutes, Ginger announced that it looked like they had all been found, and a count was taken. Bowls were emptied onto the dining room table, and after a few minutes, Bertie, the 'impartial counter', announced that Algy had twenty and Biggles had nineteen: there were not forty eggs there.

          “That leaves one still to be found.” Biggles said, recounting their pool of thirty-nine shimmering sweets.

Algy too stared at their finds. “You’re sure you hid them all in this room?” he asked Ginger, giving the walls a hard stare.

          “They’re all in here.”

          “Where have we not looked?” Biggles muttered, more to himself than anyone else.

As it happened, Ginger knew exactly where the last egg was. He’d hidden it when Bertie had been sticking his head in the sofa, so only he knew where it was, and for this reason Bertie was giving him an odd look. Slowly, he sidled over and whispered in Ginger’s ear.

          “Where did you hide it, laddie?” he asked, looking at where Biggles and Algy were circling the room in competitive silence. “They’ve got all the ones I hid.”

          “You’ll see.” Ginger replied with a smile.

          “Well, you’ll have to tell them soon, or Algy might set on you.” Bertie opined. “And if it’s anywhere in the sun, it’ll melt.”

Ginger thought this over, but decided that it could survive a while longer in it’s hiding place. Averting his eyes from it with a great effort, he stared innocently at the ceiling, until Algy’s voice snapped him back to the present.

          “I think we might have to give up, Ginger. Why not just tell us, then we can have lunch?”

Unwilling to give in so easily, Ginger decided to give them a final clue.

          “Turning the light on might help.”

Obediently, Algy flicked the switch, then turned back to the room. Seeing nothing new, he stared at Biggles, who he saw was staring in turn at Ginger, a thoughtful expression on his face.

          “You didn’t.” Biggles said, smiling.

          “Maybe…” Ginger replied, feeling that Biggles knew what he had done.

In synchronisation, both of them lifted their eyes to the bowl-shaped light fitting. Silhouetted by the now-on lamp was an oval shape, and as Algy stood flabbergasted, Biggles stepped carefully onto the arm of the sofa, leaning out to reach it down. However, the sofa was somewhat further away from the light than had first appeared, and the ceilings rather higher than Ginger remembered. Everyone was roped in to help make a ladder up, with the final solution being to move the dining table over and balance it between the coffee table and the edge of the sofa frame. Then, standing on a chair on top of that, Biggles was just about able to get his hand into the light fitting, and scoop up the half-melted egg. However, just as he was about to bring it out, the door opened, and the one voice they didn’t want to hear drifted in.

          “Major Bigglesworth, I’ve just got back, and- oh!” Mrs Symes took in the scene in one glance: Biggles standing on the precarious assortment of furniture, with Ginger and Algy ready to catch him if he fell, and Bertie steadying the table.

          “Mrs Symes!” Algy said, mostly to break the silence that had fallen. “How was your trip to…your sisters?”

          “What is going on here?” the housekeeper asked, eyes wide, “And is that my oak dining table?”

Biggles hastily climbed down from the chair and was soon on the floor. “Sorry, Mrs Symes, we didn’t think-”

          “Clearly.” The housekeeper had a true knack for making them feel uncomfortable, using a combination of disappointment and thinly-veiled anger.

          “I’ll clear it up, I promise.” Ginger said sadly, his face devoid of its previous grin. “The Easter Egg hunt was my idea anyway.”

          “Yours and mine, old bean.” Bertie interjected, looking similarly apologetic. “I’ll clear up too.”

          “The table was my idea,” Algy admitted, “I’ll put that away.”

          “I let them do it.” Biggles added. “We’re sorry, Mrs Symes.”

After a second, the housekeeper raised her eyebrows in defeat, seeing how sincere the apologies were, and exited with a nod. When the room was back to normal a few minutes later, Ginger picked up the large egg that had remained on the sideboard from earlier, and slipped out. He found Mrs Symes in the corridor, hoovering.

          “We are sorry about using your furniture like that,” he said contritely, “we’ve cleared it all away, and nothing is damaged. I, uh…when we were getting the smaller Easter eggs, Bertie and I got this one for you too.” Ginger presented it to her. “Happy Easter!”

She took it with a smile, and thanked Ginger, who then returned to the living room. Biggles and Algy had divided the eggs between them, with Biggles getting the half melted one.   

          “Any left for us?” Ginger asked jokingly, and Biggles unexpectedly agreed to share his with his young protégé.

Bertie looked pointedly at Algy.

          “No.” Algy said flatly. “You made me do acrobatics to get some of these, I’ve worked for them.”

          “I say, old top, that’s a bit thick. You think you had trouble getting to some of them- I had to hide the bally things!”

Biggles turned to Ginger. “How did you get that one in the lamp, without Bertie noticing?”

          “I threw it.” Ginger confessed. “I hoped you’d turn on the light when you came in, but then you didn’t.”

          “Luckily, _I_ got the hint.” Biggles said, with a wink at his cousin.

And so, as Algy reluctantly shared his chocolates with Bertie, the four air police turned to other topics of conversation.

          “I say, you know what else we used to do at Chedcombe? We had a jolly old Easter bonnet competition. Maybe-”

          “NO!”

**Author's Note:**

> this seems very ooc to me, but i thought it might bring someone a laugh…
> 
> I really need to concentrate on other things, but sometimes I have a rare idea and have to get it down. This one evolved to the point of publishing :D


End file.
